


The God Tamer

by nightfallgoddess



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/F, M/M, Multi, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Trojan War, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 16:03:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11444292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightfallgoddess/pseuds/nightfallgoddess
Summary: Time travel + Greek mythology = The God Tamer





	1. Prologue

_“You are going to die today,”_ he snarled, pushing the spear into the neck of the soldier. The Achaean fell to his knees with a gurgled scream, blood foaming up his mouth. All around, soldiers fought each other like virile animals.Trojan banner men shouted war cries, eager to face their enemies.

He pulled the spear out of the now, dead soldier. Scarlet liquid dripped down its length, where it then pooled in his leather clad wrist. He paid no head to the blood, rather, it only fueled him more as he continued on his path.

 A group of young Achaean soldiers advanced towards him heedfully. They looked right off their mothers’ teats, wide eyed and unaware of their soon to be eminent death.

Ares knew what he looked like in that terrifying moment. His usual shoulder length blonde hair, was most likely turned a dark color, caked with the blood of his victims. His armor, black and scaled, displayed dents and scratches from heavy combat. The crimson red cloak attached to the neck of his chest armor flowed behind him in long ripped strands. As the God of War, his mere presence alone made those around him tremble with fear. And if they didn’t, they were either brainless or dead.

The soldiers attacked, but it was futile to think that they could defeat him, or as much as scratch the surface of his armor. His speed was unmatched and too skilled for their obscene training. He did not hesitate as he slaughtered them all. Each kill was like a drop of ambrosia−sweet and addicting

 Hector, the leader of the Trojan army, had prayed to Ares to join their cause and to grant his men with the fighting strength necessary to crush their enemies.

The Trojans wanted power and that was what he would give them.They were a rough sort of people who were considered outsiders among the Greeks. Outsiders like him and with his help, they were slowly winning the war, pushing the Achaeans into a tight corner. A corner they would not be able to hide in forever.

A body fell next to him, thrown off by a horse. It laid there on the blood stained ground broken, legs disjointed like a wooden doll.Life during battle was such a fragile thing. So easily taken away if one did not pay head. Being a God granted Ares the advantage of immortality, something not even Zeus could take away from him.

His advanced hearing allowed him to foresee the sound of arrows being strung back and released from the enemy’s side. He directed the soldiers to raise their shields. Soon arrows cloaked the sky above, black, and arrows bounced off shields, as if they were merely sticks.

Ares was the first to recover and as soon as he did, he reached behind him, pulling out a second sword. This one was his very own that he had personally forged. The sword pulsed in his hand like a rapid heartbeat. Its strength flowed through him with the power that only he could create.

He began the charge and the Trojan men followed, of course struggling to keep up. Seeing the God of War leading a charge would make even the most skilled of warriors tremble in their sandals.

People feared him, even the gods. And they were all very wise to do so. Ares knew what they all thought of him back in Olympus. Where power was domination and peace was unknown, one must always watch his or her back because, because betrayal was right around the corner. In Olympus you never knew when someone would betray you to give themselves just a little more power.

And for Ares, power was everything. It was familiar, it did not betray him. Being powerless was not an option for him to easily forfeit. And this? The clashing of swords, the cries of fallen soldiers as heads left bodies, and the decimation of nations in the palms of his hands? This was what he was created for, this was where he belonged. 

_What more could he want? What more could he need?_

*

Zeus sat comfortably on his throne as he watched through a portal, his son tear the world apart in this petty mortal war.

 Sharp eyes watched as Ares fought through the soldiers as if they were mere cattle, bodies falling by the hundreds, in only minutes.The king of the Gods watched the movements of the God of War carefully, and his eyes were not the only one.

But, they too, also watched. Eyes full of knowledge and premonition, deciding then and there what had to be done. For something was slithering through the underworld, waiting for the moment to strike with deadly speed. A personification of destruction. But first, they had to find someone to turn the fate.

They had to find someone worthy.


	2. A Sister's Love

“ _You cannot protect him forever, daughter_.” Zeus sat high on his throne, centered in the council room of the Gods and Goddesses of Olympus. Hidden from all mortal eyes, the room was brightly lit with marble stoned pillars.The ceiling was open to view the scattered moondust of the sky above. Below, the translucent floor peered into the mortal world, showcasing all of Greece.  

Eleven thrones enclosed the circle, in order of their importance. Hera, the wife of Zeus and Queen of the Olympians, sat beside her husband. Next to her sat Hades, then Poseidon, following Hermes, Hephaestus, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Artemis, Apollo, and herself.One seat was purposely left empty.

 Her father was an imposing figure with a strong build and black hair just like her own. Covered in gold platted armor, he looked magnificent in a way only he could emanate. In his right hand held the most powerful weapon in all of Olympus−the lightning bolt.

Powerful, he most definitely was, but Zeus was also kind and gentle when he wanted to be. She knew he loved his children dearly, even if he did not show it often. However, what he was proposing did not sit well with her.

 “You and I both know that the God of War does not need my protection, father. But what you are suggesting…can we not try again to speak to him?”

She looked about the room, where her family sat. Her eyes landed on her raven haired brother, Apollo, who sat silently across from her. She had tried several times to catch his eyes, to try to communicate with him to be by her side, but his attention had not strayed from their father.

No one spoke up to support her and that was when she knew she was alone in this. “He is our family!” She turned to the rest of them. “How does doing this make us any different from Cronus, or any of the other monsters of the realms?” Her voice shook in a way it never had before.

Killing a god was not something to take lightly. A feat that was nearly impossible and did not often occur, especially not to the God of War.

In fact, it had been decreed as forbidden by Zeus unless no other alternative could be attained. Here, her father claimed that reason, but she was not so sure that they had truly exhausted all their options.

Zeus rose from his seat and following his movements, a crack of lightning splintered the translucent night sky above. He stood tall and glorious among the rest of them, showcasing his superiority and his rightfulness as king, and father.

“Careful, Aphrodite,” his voice stern and sharp as a whip, yet there was also a detection of affection. “You forget who you are speaking to.”

She knew it not wise to speak out of turn as she had done, but the situation called for more than her usual timid words.Things were getting worse, she could feel it in her soul. The moment the Achaeans and Trojans sounded their war horns, the world had shifted itself into darkness.

Aphrodite made leave of her seat and walked down the porcelain white stairs that led down to the center of the throne room. The height of their location garnered a breeze from an unknown source, lifting her meticulously styled hair off of her back. Her heeled sandals echoed loudly in the now silent room, where her family watched her cautiously. She fell to her knees, gracefully.

“Forgive me, father.” she apologized, regretfully. “I meant no disrespect.” He studied her carefully with his deep brown eyes. Many often told her that they mirrored her own. His gaze seemed to peer into Aphrodite’s mind.Looking into his eyes, she felt even her darkest of secrets had been displayed in front of her for all to see. It unnerved her, causing a prickle of bumps to rise on her arms. But in reserve, she also felt a connection between her and Zeus, one perhaps no other person in the room had, not even Hera, his wife and Queen.

After several tense moments, Zeus made strong strides towards her, his steps sounding like the rolling of thunder. She peered up at him, waiting for his preceeding action, silence stretched uncomfortably around her, until she saw brown eyes soften.

Zeus reached a hand to wipe away a tear from her cheek. Aphrodite did not realize she’d been crying. “Be at ease, daughter. It is not at you my anger is directed towards.” He released the hand from her cheek and addressed the rest of the council. “ _It is at all of us in this room who have sat idle while we let Ares rage a war threatening to tear nations apart!_ ”

This statement created impassioned mummers among the Olympians. Aphrodite lifted herself from her knees as the rest of her family argued among themselves. To any mere mortal, this sight alone would have conjured immense fear.

“I say we let the mortals fight!” Hades declared in an outcry. “Penance for their insubordination.” A handful of the Olympians pounding their fists on their thrones in agreement.

“You only desire the continuation of this war so that their souls may continue to sustain your underworld,” Hera interjected.

Hades, with his dark brown eyes and curled onyx hair, seemed to light on fire at her mother’s condemnation.

To Aphrodite’s left, Athena and Artemis began a heated conversation. Athena being the Goddess of War, her deep blue eyes seemed to burn with the intensity of the argument. War excited her just as much as it did for Ares. However, Athena was loved by mortals and favored by Zeus, unlike her counterpart. Poseidon and Hermes talked in hushed whispers beside her father. The dark skin of the God of the Seas rippled like the sea as he listened to Hermes’ words. His tarnished green armor, which was molded to his chest and arms like sea weed, moved like the waves he hailed from. A three forked trident was wrapped in a strong grip.

She then caught Apollo’s eyes, and for the first time since the beginning of the gathering, he did not look away. Hazel brown eyes conveyed the same emotion that she herself felt. _Fear_. Fear of what this was already doing to their family− tearing it apart.

She feared that this attempt to kill Ares was just the beginning of something worse to come and as long as she was still alive and breathing, she would not allow it. In the loudest voice she could induce from her small body, she called attention to the room.

“Silence! All of you!” she demanded tensely. All eyes fell on her in that moment and she had the full attention of the room…and her father. To her surprise, Zeus looked sheepishly around him.

 “Aphrodite is right. We must deal with this sensitive situation with more contemplation.” He turned to her and nodded slightly, then returned to his throne facing the rest of them. “It is impossible to kill a god, even for myself. However, this does not mean Ares should be left unchecked. Any war generated by the mortals with such feverish rage has his brand on it. If we let him continue, there will be nothing we can do to stop him.” Zeus then looked directly at her. “That is why it is only fitting that Ares be sent to Tartarus. There, he cannot infiltrate the weak minds of the mortals.” A mummer sounded among the rest of the Olympians.

Her heart stopped as if Cronus himself was ripping it out of her chest. This could not be. Ares sent to Tartarus? The place as far beneath Hades as heaven was above earth? Did the rest of them truly not care for her brother?

“No,” she said, her voice hard. “You will _not_ send him there, father.”

An indignant combination of thunder and lightning splintered the night sky above, rocking the floor beneath her. She could feel the anger rolling off her father’s body. But unlike before, she stood her ground. She had to.

Zeus raised a strong brow. "Tell me,  _daughter_ , what do _you_ suggest should be done in this situation?” he requested, signaling her with his hand. “You have our full attention.” What she knew he meant was that she should choose her next words carefully. Aphrodite stared directly into her father’s eyes.

“Tame him.”

Silence followed her simple statement. Then all at once the room exploded with laughter, even Zeus cracked a smile. Apollo was the only one to not mock her and Aphrodite gifted him with a small thankful smile.

The mocking laughter made her feel small, weak, and unimportant. It signified that the rest of them believed she was less capable than them, just because her talents did not align themselves with battle and violence, it did not mean that she could not make a difference.

“Aphrodite. I admire your tender nature, but you are foolish to even consider such a thing. _Tame_ the God of War?” Zeus chuckled lightly. “You have spent too much time with your nymphs and dryads.”

She shook her head. Foolish? She was not foolish. She was however, hopeful and eager to see the good in others. After all, she was the embodiment of love, but foolish she was not. “If you believe it cannot be done, then let me disprove this doubt,” she countered. Then she addressed the rest of the council, turning around the room. “Let me show you _all_ what I am capable of.”

Hermes was the first to speak up after her proposition. “What will you do? Shoot one of cupid’s arrows and turn the God of War into a lovesick fool?” he laughed jeeringly.The Messenger of the Gods sat lazily on his throne, his long black hair styled in a single careful braid with a blue strand of hair woven through. The jab garnered another round of laughter among the rest of them, and each time they did, it made burning anger rise in her.

“I do not  _need_  Cupid’s bow and arrow to change a person. My talents lie elsewhere,” she objected firmly.

“So you plan to seduce Ares, then?” This time it was Apollo who raised the question. Her head whipped to him.

“No! I would n− he is my brother. The bond between us is too sacred to mar in such a manner. I just meant, I do not need weapons and violence to ensure the end of this war, or my brother’s safety." Apollo nodded as he leaned back in his seat.

Her brother had been less than willing to attend this meeting when they had both received the fire message from Hermes. Aphrodite had gone to visit him in his realm. They had been eating outside on the hilltops overlooking the Ionian Sea when they had both received the fire message from Hermes, his favorite form of communication.

The subject of their closest brother still did not come up, although she had ventured to approach it. Something had happened between her two brothers, she just knew it. But just like Ares, Apollo did not often share his feelings willingly.

“I know you all think of me as less than you, because of who I am−what I stand for,” she began.

“Aphrodite…” Zeus started.

“ _It is true,_ father,” she interrupted. “Do not spare my feelings. After all, the mere idea of me stopping Ares made laughter fill this room like a thousand of my faeries. She held her head high. “I may not be able to cast an arrow with the skill of Apollo or have the ability to forge like Hephaestus, but I do have my own strengths.”

“Yes,  _love_ is indeed a notable strength. But will it be strong enough to stop this war? To stop  _Ares_?” her father inquired. Aphrodite was once again surprised to hear a moment of consideration in his voice.

“It has to be,” she replied with uncertainty she often berated herself for.They might have given up on her brother, but she would not. She knew what they thought of him−The God of War. Even the way they said Ares’s title, sounded like something to be disgusted by. The other Olympians treated Ares as if he were a ticking time bomb. Ready to explode at any moment. Even Hades showed disdain for him.

Before all of this, Ares had actively participated in their gatherings, offering his own point of view, but every time, their father would shut him down. And of course, whatever Zeus said, was final. Over time when it was made clear that neither Zeus nor any of the other Olympians would ever accept him, Ares ceased to attend.

Aphrodite had not seen him for many moons, but she felt his anger…his loneliness. He needed her, and she would not rest until she saved him. “It will be.” She reaffirmed herself. This time her voice did not waver.

“Know that if you do this, Aphrodite, there will be no turning back.” Zeus shook his head heavily. “I will allow this only because you are certain that you will not fail. If you do fail, know that you will face the same fate as Ares, which was originally planned.”

Her heart skipped. She could already feel the blundering heat of the fire pits that surrounded the underworld prison. If she did not succeed, then she too would face eternity in the gloomy, storm wracked prison of the Titans below. Her fear of the underworld prison was great. But the love for her brother, was so much greater.

“I will be sure not to fail, then.”

There was a slight pause from her father, then he raised his hands, as she watched him create an image before them.

“This plan of yours must succeed by the next solar eclipse.” The image showed the sun completely covering the moon.

“That is only three full moons away,” she exclaimed breathlessly.

 “Yes. Three full moons and nothing more.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting her mind wonder to find her courage.This was not something she could mend with ballads of love and marriage. She was dealing with something greater than herself, greater than all of them. The muted voices echoed in her head with their silent warnings of what was to come. There was no turning back now.

Her eyes opened. “It will be done. You have my word,” she said with all the courage in her heart.

Zeus opened his mouth as if he wished to say more, then seemed to change his mind and instead gave her a quick nod. Once again, he rose from his throne as he lifted his left hand up to the night sky. There, a single lightning bolt appeared, casting a blinding light among those around.

“Aphrodite, Goddess of Olympus, has hereby bound herself to the fate of Ares, the God of War,” his voiced echoed loudly throughout the room. “This is a life contract, and therefore, it shall only be terminated upon completion.” Then he turned to the rest of the Olympians, his watchful eyes lingering momentarily on Apollo. “She must do this on her own. No aid shall come to her. If it is revealed to me that any of you have indeed helped her in any way, you too, shall face the same judgement,” Zeus warned strongly.

The Olympians showed their understanding by bowing their heads. Meanwhile, Aphrodite looked above, where Eos had begun to blanket the night sky with golden dawn, her rays of light driving away the mist of night to start a new.

It was done.

 

* 

_“Must you do this, M’ Lady?”_  Clarissa asked softly. Aphrodite looked up to find vivid green eyes filled with worry staring back at her through the dressing mirror.The delicate hands that had been dressing her were now trembling, as they failed to secure the knot on the silk dress.

She found herself placing her own hand on top of her dear friend and handmaiden. The daughter of Amphitrite, the sea goddess and wife of Poseidon, Clarissa had been brought to her realm as a companion. Even as a young maiden, Amphitrite’s daughter had captured the attention of many sea dwellers in her new husband’s realm. She thought it safer for her daughter to remain with someone she could trust.

The young demi-goddess had been just been shy of her ten and sixteen name day when she had arrived in Aphrodite’s lush gardens. With red hair as bright as the setting sun and smooth porcelain skin, Clarissa had also caught the eyes of many in Aphrodite’s realm. Aphrodite was known to be the most beautiful of the Goddesses, but secretly, she believed in her heart that Clarissa’s beauty eclipsed her own.

She squeezed Clarissa’s hand gently.They were sitting in her private chambers which only a few of her handmaiden’s were allowed to enter. Being such a public figure as she was, she relished in these moments of seclusion from her duties as ruler of her realm. Her original home was Mount Olympus, but she had demanded that her father allow her to manage her own realm. A realm filled with happiness and love. A place where she believed she could make a difference in the lives of those who sought out love.

Mortals came by the hundreds to pray at her sacred temple in the mortal world, asking for guidance in the affairs of the heart. It filled her with joy to see such passions. “I’m afraid I must.” She couldn’t stop the sadness that seeped through her words.

Clarissa was silent as she pulled her hand away from beneath Aphrodite’s. Aphrodite then watched as her dearest friend left her for the balcony that overlooked the courtyard garden below. Reaching to her shoulder, she finished the job that Clarissa had left, and the last knot of the dress tightly. She left her seat and made her way to Clarissa, who was now leaning against a pillar, her shoulders shaking.

“What is wrong, Clarissa?” she asked, approaching the sobbing figure. Aphrodite stood next to the red head and placed a hand, once again, on top of hers. “What have I done to upset you?”

Clarissa’s tear stained face turned to her. “Does he mean so much to you that you are willing to die for him?” Her cheeks were red from exertion and her lips were bitten, and yet, she looked as beautiful as a nymph. “Are you so willing to leave  _me_?”

Aphrodite’s eyes widened. “Ares is my brother, Clarissa. What would you prefer I do? Let the rest of them throw him with those monsters? He does not belong there and he does not deserve that fate.” She thought of her brother, conjuring the image of his rarely seen smile. "He should not be judged for who he is.”

“I did not mean it in such a way, M’Lady. My apologies.”

“Tell me, would you not do the same for your own brother?” Aphrodite asked. She knew she was breaching a sensitive subject for the demi goddess.

Clarissa removed her hand quickly from under hers and shook her head furiously. “My brother is a monster, you know that. I would not do the same. Not for him.” She felt her gaze soften as she watched Clarissa close in on herself.

Instantly she wanted to brush away those delicate tears from rosy cheeks, but she thought better of it. Now was not the time to act on feelings that she had hidden so well. Aphrodite laughed inside her head at how silly it was that she, the Goddess of Love, was too afraid to tell the woman beside her that she would go the ends of Hades itself to always have her smiling. 

“Pardon my words, Clarissa. I did not mean to bring up such despairing memories. I’m quite on edge.”

“It is fine, M’Lady,” the red head mumbled turning her head away from her, causing a soft curled hair to fall in front of her face.

“I thought I asked you not to call me, ‘M’Lady’? Surely after all this time, you’d consider us to be friends, Clarissa.” Aphrodite reached out and gently tucked a red curl away from Clary’s face, behind her ear. Clarissa looked up with a light in her eyes that had not been there earlier. It took her breath away.

“Ye-yes, M’ L –I mean, Aphrodite. We are.”

Aphrodite smiled warmly, although she wanted more, now was not a suitable time to pursue her heart’s desires, no matter how tempting the woman before her was. All eyes were on her now. She had the binding contract of Zeus, her brother’s fate, and the lives of mortals in her grasp.

She could not allow herself to become distracted and for all of it to slip away so easily. Maybe if there was really a bright light at the end of this dark path, then, she would see where her heart led her. But until then, she would not encourage it.

“That is all I need from you. Your friendship. It is so dear to me and I fear you will hate me for what I am to ask of you.”

 “I could never hate you,” Clarissa said softly. A small blush appeared on demi goddess’s cheeks. Aphrodite stomped on the warmth already flowing throughout her body.Those words touched her in ways that she could not fully comprehend. In that moment, she almost regretted the situation that she was in, but she quickly scolded herself. It was now her duty to stop a war and save her brother, and she would see it through.

 Love could wait.

“It gives me great relief to hear you say that. I’m glad you and I are  _friends_. I truly believe that the love between two  _friends_ can sometimes be the strongest of bonds.” She held onto Clarissa’s hand tightly, giving it a quick squeeze.

Slowly, understanding etched its way on Clarissa’s face, and with that came a frown. Blinking several times, she replied, “Of course _,_ M’Lady. If that is what you want.”  

 _No, it is not what I want_. “Clar−“Aphrodite began, feeling a pang in her heart looking at the dejected look on her handmaiden’s face.

Clarissa interjected forcefully, pulling her hands away, again. This time it felt like a door had been shut and locked. “What is it then you require of me,  _M’Lady_?”

Aphrodite sighed. She told herself that this was for the best. That if she were to fail she did not want to leave Clarissa heartbroken. Or perhaps it was her own heart that needed protection.

“This must not leave this room. For I fear my father has his spies all around, watching me, making sure I have not disobeyed his terms.” She ushered Clarissa through her bed chamber, careful not touch her intimately, as she was so used to doing.

They continued down a long walkway lined with hundreds of multicolored flowers. Many bloomed as their Goddess walked past. Stopping in the middle of Aphrodite’s garden, they were greeted by a multitude of fairies that began to sing at the revival of their Goddess, sprinkling the garden with delicate laughter.

Normally, she would humor these dainty creatures of hers by joining them in their dances. But now was not the time for fun. She shooed them away. Obeying her command they disappeared into thin air, as if they had never existed. The garden was lush and very well hidden, providing them with enough privacy that not even her father could hear her upcoming words. They sat next to the golden fountain that her father had given to her as a gift to her realm. It was for her own personal use, allowing herself the ability to peer into the mortal world…and even worlds beyond.

Clarissa folded her hands in front of her, not quite meeting her eyes, and waited for her mistress to begin. Leaning in, Aphrodite began to tell her closest confidant her plan to tame the God of War.


	3. Pancakes & Eggs

  * _Brooklyn, Present Day_



“Clary, _I’m fine_. Really. You don’t need to do this."

Simon spoke slowly as his best friend busied herself with making breakfast. She poured a bowl of creamy mix into the frying pan.

“Your face says otherwise.”

“You’re not even looking at my face.” Simon glanced down at his phone, checking the time. He was going to be late to his economics lecture. Again. “Seriously, Clary. I really am fine.”

Clary Fray slammed the spatula she had been using to flip the pancakes. It hit the counter with a clank, making him wince from the sound of silver against marble.

Simon always thought that his best friend was completely capable of killing a person with just a cooking utensil, despite her being the smallest person he knew.

“Give me some credit, Simon. I’m your best friend. I know when you're lying.” Her back turned to him as she looked out their small window overlooking the busy streets of Brooklyn dramatically, as if she was in a damn daytime soap opera. He really had to check her on her Days of Our lives obsession. “That look in your eyes. It’s the same one after your father died. You’re miserable. Why won’t you just admit it?”

She picked up the spatula and continued flipping. Simon forced myself to relax by putting the breathing exercise from childhood therapy into good use before he walked around the counter to stand next to her. Clary was at least a foot shorter than him with bright red hair that garnered her the nickname carrot head back in grade school.

Since Simon could remember, Clary had always been in his life. She was a constant presence of security. Especially being there for him when Simon mourned his father’s passing, dealt with Mom’s downward spiral into alcoholism, and his recent struggle with his sexuality. Best friends since days in the sand box, they knew each other, inside and out and it was moments like this that he wondered, if that was a blessing or a curse.

There was once a time when Simon had thought that he loved her romantically. After all, best friends falling in love wasn’t an uncommon thing. At least, it always seemed to the theme in all those romcons Clary forced him to watch.

Then, Clary came out as bisexual and Simon was stuck in between a grey color scheme, uncertain of where he fit in, and where he belonged.

Did he like girls? Did he like guys? Did he even care what the person’s gender was at all? Those were the questions that Simon had replayed in his mind for years, until one day, it all just clicked.

Kind of.

Simon's father once told him that life was going to be a bitch, that it was going to hit him upside the head, punch him in the stomach and turn him around into a million different directions. And to keep sane in this unpredictable thing called life, all he had to do was find someone who would be willing to take those hits with him, and Clary was that person.

Simon paused before he wrapped his arms around her small waist. “I’m sorry. I know you hate it when when I’m like this.” He knew she meant well, but sometimes Simon wished she’d back off when he was being like this.

She turned around to face him and he was not surprised to find her eyes wet. Clary showed her emotions openly and without trouble and that was something he could never do.

“Don’t apologize for not being happy,” she said quietly, wiping at her cheeks. Then, giving Simon a lopsided grin, she reached out and ruffled his hair, making it even messier than it already was. She accompanied it with soft kiss to his left cheek. When she pulled away, he knew that all his efforts to shut her down were already slowly chipping away.

Clary had managed to perfect the art of the pouty face since they were kids and it was a secret weapon she utilized well. Too damn well. 

Simon sighed in defeat.

She bounced onto her tippy toes to reach the cabinet in front of him, where shelves held mismatched plates that the two of them had accumulated throughout the years as roommates.

It was a struggle to watch her struggle to reach the top shelf, so Simon put her out of her misery and reached over her head and grabbed the plates. She went back to her natural height with a huff. “I almost had that,” she said stubbornly, pinching him lightly at my side.

“Right.The keyword being  _almost_ ,” Simob teased, sidestepping her to slide two pancakes onto his plate before heading over to our small kitchen table. Sketches littering the table top. He cleared them off without a second thought.

“Hey! Those are new!”

Living with an art major, he had to put up with smudges of charcoal on the fridge handle, left over paint in the shower, and stacks of sketches littered everywhere in our already congested apartment, so Simon stopped feeling guilty years ago.

He grinned as he slid into his lopsided chair. Clary had found it at a flea market when we first moved in.

The uneven table legs, tittered whenever he moved and any day now, he was sure that they would all just snap. He'd have to make a trip to the hardware store to get it fixed. “You know the rules. No sketches on the table,” Simon said before taking a savoring bit of the food. The pancake was soft and buttery and the syrup he'd drenched on top created a sweet satisfying completion.

Clary snorted as she made her own plate before taking a seat across from him. They sat in comfortable silence, passing each other syrup, butter, and other things essentials in eating pancakes. Clary’s Ihome filled the kitchen with the soulful sounds of Hozier, as the two of them ate breakfast.

Simon could feel her eyes on him. It was a constant look that over time he'd learned to ignore. Stuffing the last piece of buttery pancake in his mouth, he finally asked her, looking up. “So what exactly is your  _fun_  plan for today?”

Clary grinned widely, showcasing the rather adorable scrunch of her nose that appeared whenever she smiled too hard.

“The Met,” she answered excitedly, taking a long sip of milk from her  _Art Is Life_  mug I had gotten her for Hanukkah several years ago.

Simon had to force myself not to roll his eyes. “ _Clary_ , we were just there  _four weeks ago_ , remember?”

“Well, that was four weeks ago, and this is  _this_  week,” she argued childishly, picking up their finished plates. “Plus, they have a new addition to the Grecian artifacts. You love that exhibit.”

“Yeah, when I was in middle school during the unit on ancient civilizations,” he complained.

Clary put the dishes into the rack next to the sink and then dried her hands on the dishtowel. She turned around, the sun filtering behind her head giving it a blazing luminescence. “I just have a feeling that we should go. Take a day off. Spend time with me. I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks and we live together.  Maybe going out can take your mind off of whatever slump that has been eating at you for the last month.” Clary made her way slowly to him until she stood right next to his chair. “I hate seeing you like this. When you’re not happy, I’m not happy. We’re a package deal remember?”

Simon gnawed on the inside of his mout, then he sighed, regretting their entire friendship and how easily he gave into her. “Yeah, package deal. Fine. I’ll go.” Clary let out a small squeal then leaned down and hugged him with a force three times her size. Her curly hair ticked my nose, making it twitch awkwardly. “Cl-Clary?” Simon choked out. God. She was strong. “Uh−need to breathe.”

 She quickly removed herself from him. “Sorry,” she said apologetically, her cheeks beginning to redden. Then she looked at the clock on our wall. It was always fifteen minutes off. “We can probably make it to the train if we leave now?” she suggested, turning back to him.

He shook my head, then moved to their shared bathroom. “We won’t make it in time. Cab. It’ll be faster,” Simon yelled over his shoulder as entered to bathroom. “And you’re paying!" He closed the door to her right on cue protests.


	4. Aphrodisa

Hefound myself walking behind an over excited red head as she wondered through the art museum as if it were her first being there. When they'd arrived, the place had been completely empty except for the occasional artists working on their own variations of famous pieces. Now that it was nearing lunch time, people were slowly filling into the museum.

 He and Clary passed by a group of wide eyed grade schoolers as they watched intensely as their museum guide showed them the modern art exhibit. “Remember when that was us, coming here for the first time?” Clary asked over her shoulder.

 _Yes_ , Simon thought. He remembered that day oh too clearly.

Jocelyn Fairchild, Clary’s mother, had been their chaperone on their Kindergarten school’s end of the year field trip. Clary’s mother was also an artist, now retired, and was now teaching free art lessons to under privileged schools in Brooklyn. So, having her as a chaperone had been a treat because she knew more information than the other parents. And, Simon also remembered how Clary had convinced him to sneak away, where we played a wild goose chase with the security guards.

The chase had ended after being found in the same exhibit she and him were now headed. The Greek and Roman statues. "Mom took away my Gameboy for a whole week because of you.”

She laughed, shrugging her shoulders. “Hey, it’s not my fault you followed me. I can’t be blamed for you always going along with every stupid plan.”

“Then stop doing stupid things,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” Clary turned him with one eyebrow raised and her hands on her hips. She looked just like her mother.

Simon eyes widened innocently. “I was just saying how  _great_  your plans are.” He miled faux-sweetly.

“Mm-hmm. That’s totally what you said,” she replied with joking anger. An intense staring contest between them ensued and after a couple of minutes of staring, their serious faces melted into childish smiles and giggles. It felt good to smile.

*

They entered the Metropolitan’s most famous attraction, their Roman and Greek exhibit. The wing was dimly lit, leaving only spotlights for the sculptures on display. Clary was right, he did secretly love this room. It felt so different from the other exhibits and it almost had a certain air about it, like you were stepping into another time.

Simon stopped first at his favorite statues. The Three Fates. Three mysterious looking women, standing side by side, each resting a hand on the shoulder of another. Their diligently carved robes were draped over a pair of vases standing to either side. According to Greek mythology, The Fates were three sister deities who were said to have been the incarnations of destiny and life. Clotho, the one who spun the thread of life; Lachesis, she who drew the lots and determines how long one lives, by measuring the thread of life; and Atropos, the inevitable, she who chose how someone died by cutting the thread of life with her shears.

Personally, he didn’t believe in any of that fate crap. Clary always went on and on about how it was fate that he had chosen to play in that sandbox with her all those years ago. And that if it hadn’t been for that moment, the two of them wouldn’t be where they were in life.

Simon guessed in some aspects, she was right. But, he just found it hard to believe that there was some omnicious outside force stringing us along like puppets. He knew better than that.

The death of his father hadn’t been fated. It had been collateral damage and in those fleeting moments, Simon had felt powerless to stop what he had seen coming. After the death, he allowed a part of his soul to tear off a piece of itself, each day, until one day, the pain turned to numbness, and dark thoughts bled into his mind. It was Clary that had given him something to hold on to, something to pull him out of that dark place.

 She came up next to him, breaking his  thoughts. “I hate that we don’t appreciate women’s bodies like they did,” she said in wonderment as her eyes hyper focused on the statues, with eyes only an artist had. “They look so…womanly.”

Simon agreed.They did. Every single statue that featured a Roman or Greek woman, showed a woman with curves and love handles. Not that not having curves was a bad thing. Beauty to him, had always felt more subjective and that it was rather a person’s nature that really showed their true beauty. Not their looks.

“Let’s go to that other side. I think that’s the new stuff they’ve just added. I don’t recognize some of those displays.” Clary pointed to the back corner of the room. They walked through the new items, many of them, pieces of pottery that had managed to be salvaged from the Greek era.

Next to Simon, Clary pulled out her small sketch pad and produced a pencil out of god knows where, and began sketching a half vase with two black figured warriors with spears pointed at each other that we had stopped at.  

He continued on. The calm and quiet of the room allowed him to finally relax without Clary breathing down his back. Ever since he came out as pansexual a month ago to his friends and family, she had become extremely protective of him. The thing was, after years of feeling different, of feeling like he didn’t belong anywhere, he thought that finally realizing a part of him would change his life.

It hadn’t.

Eyes focused on the vases, Simon forced himself to look at every detail of each display so that he could let his thoughts get lost somewhere else. The art was pretty. Old, but pretty. He looked back to see where Clary was, but she was nowhere to be seen. She probably went to the bathroom or something.

He pulled his phone out of his hoodie pocket. It was nearly two o’clock and they hadn’t eaten lunch yet. Simon's stomach grumbled on cue. When Clary got back, he'd have to remind her that food was a crucial part of survival and that if she loved him, she would take him out to lunch immediately.

Only one display was left in the new collection and Simon was surprised to be standing in front of a fully intact vase. Unlike the previous ancient pottery, this vase looked like it had been buried and dug up just yesterday.The background of the vase was painted a velvet black, allowing the figure of a woman painted in a tarnished gold, to stand out significantly.

He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose to read the small printed description.

It was an Athenian vase of Aphrodite created for Aphrodisa, an annual festival held in Ancient Greece in the Goddess’s honor. According to the description, people would use a vase like its kind to say a prayer to Aphrodite, asking for her blessings of love. Simon turned my attention back to the vase, where the Goddess was painted in all her golden splendor. She was dressed in a long dress and her hair was adorned with what looked like carefully etched seashells. In one hand, she held a rose to her nose and in the other, a dove was perched on an outstretched finger.

Simon went back to the description below. The museum had actually put the prayer there below the artifact description.

He read the first line out loud. _Tender-hearted Aphrodite, friend of the lonely, friend of those who seek a lover, a companion for life, a mate to share their sorrows and delights._ Well, if that wasn't overly dramatic, he thought, but kept reading on.  _Aphrodite, you touch the center of the soul, you light the flame of passion in men and women, you hold our hearts in your gentle hands. Goddess, fair one, kind one, giver of the most precious gifts, open my spirit to joy and gladness, open my mind to possibility, open my heart to love._

As Simon continued reading, he began to feel a certain kind of connection to the words. Maybe because, he did feel lonely and maybe, he did want to open his heart to love, as the prayer was asking for. Admitting to himself was easy, but doing it was the difficult part.

Simon wanted it all--the good, the bad and the ugly. He wanted someone to look at him as if he were the filter of light in their rainiest of days.

Now, the prayer didn’t seem all that silly to him when put into perspective. The next lines seemed to come as easily to Simon's lips as if he were reciting one of his favorite Nicholas Cage movies Clary hated so much.

 _Heal me of hurt, release me from fear; grant me the innocence of first love that I may see the world in all its promise and beauty; grant me the wisdom of experience that I may choose with sense and judgment_. He looked at the vase again. For some reason, the painting of Aphrodite looked familiar, but he just couldn’t place his finger on it. There was something about this vase that made Simon feel warm. Actually, on second thought, the entire area around him felt warm, like he sitting in front of a low lit fireplace.

The urge to finish what he had started tugged at him, so Simon turned back to the prayer, ignoring the odd change of temperature, and finished the final stanza . _May my eyes be keen, may my vision be true, may I see what is more clearly than what may be. Aphrodite, I pray to you, goddess, grant me your gift of love._ After the last words were spoken, Simon pulled away slightly, eyes eyes widening in disbelief.

He looked around him if there was anyone around who was seeing what he was seeing, right now. But to Simon's surprise, he was the only person in the room and Clary still had not returned from wherever she had run off to.

He looked at it again anf couldn’t believe what was happening. The vase was  _glowing_.

Thinking it was maybe an increased lighting of the spotlight above, Simon looked up, but the brightness was still the same. It was the  _vase_  that was different.

His hands itched to touch it, but he knew that would be an absolute violation of the museum rules, and Simon didn’t need to repeat his last experience with museum guards.They took their jobs very seriously.

However, like a moth to a flame, his feet moved him closer to the vase without realizing it. Before Simon knew, he was stopped short before the line that tapered around the podium, where the vase sat. If he took another step, the alarms would go off and he would most likely be fined, or even worse, arrested. But who cared about rules, right?

God. Clary was rubbing off on him. Against his better judgement, his feet crossed the tape. No alarm went off.The air around him felt even warmer, like someone had elevated the heat, which was odd because if he remembered correctly, museums preferred their exhibit rooms to be cool, to protect the art.

The zip up hoodie Simon wore felt scratchy against his skin. He wanted to pull it off, but the glowing vase still captured his attention.  _Touch me_ , Simon thought I heard a female voice say. “Clary?” he turned around, expecting to see his best friend holding back laughter. But he was greeted by no one. He was alone. Weird. He turned to the vase. _This_ was _really weird._

Then, he heard the voice again. _Touch me. Come to me_.

To his horror the vase began to violently shake on its podium, glowing even more brightly than before. No fucking way. Simon couldn't believe it. He tried stepping away, but his body refused to move. He was as frozen as a statue.  _Touch me! Come to me!_

Suddenly he was being pulled to the vase by a force that rattled his teeth. The vase flew off its podium and into his hand. The ancient Grecian pottery was warm and pulsating, like... it had a heartbeat. 

 _How was this possible?_  Bringing the ancient artifact closer, he sucked in a sharp breath, Simon's eyes widening, blinking in shock. The painting of the Goddess Aphrodite rippled like waves. His breath quickened in tandem to his heart, which was now on overdrive.

A familiar tingling sensation carried throughout Simon's body. A panic attack?  _No, this was much worse._

 Something was happening and Simon had no clue what it was. Sharp pain surged through his body as the vase changed temperature to scorching hot.

The sides that he held burned through the palms of his hands and he wanted to drop it, but couldn't.  _Let go, Simon, he told himself. Just drop it._  He tried to tear hands away, but they stayed put as if the vase was a part of him. Pain twisted throughout his body like a hot knife cutting through skin. He was going to die, wasn't he? This wasn't exactly how he'd imagined it, but, at least he was going out in style?

Suddenly, a scream ripped from Simon and his body burned with pain.Then, everything went black.


	5. Flower Garden

Consciousness was an elusive thing and it did not return to Simon easily. His head hurt like hell.  Worse than his first hangover when he and Clary raided his mother’s liquor cabinet in the tenth grade.

Simon rolled onto his back, feeling the prickle of something beneath him, like grass. Grass. _Wait, grass?  His_  eyes flew open, accompanying a wince. Above him was a blinding sun and it was in that moment that he knew something was not right. _How the hell had he gotten outside? What happened? Where was he?_  Simon frowned, searching through his mind for the last memory he could conjure from his jumbled brain, but even that was a struggle.

Simon pushed himself up in an upright sitting position, his body screaming in protest.  _Pain_. Pain was good. It was real, which he wouldn’t feel if he was dreaming or dead. So, he could definitely rule those two options out.

There was color everywhere –pinks, reds, yellows, purples, greens- you name it. If it weren’t for the fact that Simon was absolutely confused about how he'd gotten there, and where _there_ was, exactly, he would have probably enjoyed it.

He couldn’t recall the museum ever having a garden. Was this part of the new exhibit? And how on earth had he gotten here? He'd only been passing the time waiting for… _Clary!_  Suddenly remembering something.

 _Where was she?_  His eyes scoured around for a bright red head among the garden’s riot of color as he pulled myself up onto wobbly legs.

Simon heard a crack beneath my feet. He looked down to find his glasses broken in haggard pieces. Well, there went his last pair, he sighed.Then, suddenly, a rush of queasiness hit him. He ran to closest bush he could find, making it just in time to bend over as his stomach emptied out a healthy helping of pancakes and eggs. Gross. Simon always hated the sounds produced by vomiting. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve while looking around for something to rinse out the foul aftertaste.

Simon wandered through the garden hoping to stumble across a water fountain. But instead, next to a stone pathway, he found a small flowing stream. The water looked unearthly, consisting of the clearest blue he'd ever seen. In certain spots the sun hit, it glowed a light blue.  _What is up with me and glowing things, today?_  Bending down, he scooped a hand through the water and took a sip, gurgling the water in his mouth before spitting it out on the ground next to me.

The freshness of the water replaced the unpleasant taste of vomit. He took a handful again, this time only to drink from it. Now that he had that taken care of, he could really start to figure out what the hell was going on.

Simon followed the pathway, which led him to an archway with intricate vines adorned with white flowers. A rush of heat hit his face upon passing through, immediately putting his body at ease. This garden felt much different from the one he'd just been in. It felt familiar.

“Where the hell am I?” Simon said out loud. More flowers followed him into this new garden, more than he could count. Here, they were vibrant and lustrous compared to the previous. It was almost like the first one had been the opening act, and this one was the headlining show.

Then he saw her. A flash of red hair that could only belong to one person. She was hastily making her way through the zig zag of trees and flower beds.

“Clary!” Simon called out. Her steps faltered slightly, but instead of stopping and turning to him, she continued on her way.  _Okay, weird. Guess she didn’t hear me, then._  So he yelled louder, cupping his hands around his mouth to project. He was sure he'd here him then. But when he did, she didn't stop and turn around like Simon had expected.  _Great._  

So, not only had Clary roped him into coming with her to the museum, but she ditches him, and now, was acting like he didn’t even exist. Clary Fray had a lot of explaining to do.

Using her hair as a compass in this unfamiliar place, he followed her. Minutes later, Simon found her walking up steps leading to what looked like an altar. But his attention only focused on her sparingly. Instead, his eyes narrowed on the person she stood in front of. Simon squinted. Wasthat _Isabelle Lightwood?_

It seemed to be her. But maybe he was mistaken. There had to be plenty of people with black hair in New York? The last time Simon had seen Isabelle, she had gotten her hair cut to her shoulder. This person’s hair fell down her back in delicate curls.

If Clary had wanted to bring Isabelle along, she could have just told him, instead of abandoning him in the museum. He wouldn’t have cared. Isabelle was just as much a friend of his as she was to Clary and if they both could get their acts together, maybe they could be more.

Simon met Isabelle at the beginning of the fall semester at the Hunter’s Moon bar in downtown Brooklyn, three months ago. After a couple of drinks that night, wallowing in self-pity, he hadn’t been making the best of decisions. One of the guys at the bar had started hitting on him and of course, Simon had flirted back. The other guy's flirting hadn’t been as innocent as his and within minutes hands had unwantedly been all over Simon. He had tried pushing away, but his alcohol level had been way above his usual. Next thing he knew, the guy was wiped out on the floor with a bloody nose and over him was a feisty black haired woman who looked killer in thigh high black suede boots.

Later that night, after forcing him to drink three glasses of water, she introduced herself as Isabelle Lightwood. She had just graduated with her Masters and was now working at the Biological Science Research center in Manhattan, but she was originally from Brooklyn. There was something about Isabelle that made you want be around her.

She was smart, funny, and kind, and there was no wonder that Clary fell hard for the moment the moment Isabelle had dropped Simon off at their apartment. 

Two months ago, all three of them had gone out to celebrate his twenty first and if Isabelle had thought she was being subtle the way she looked at his best friend, then she was deluding herself. Of course Clary was too blind to see it, just like she’d been completely unaware of Simon's childhood crush on her.

So, for the past month or so, he had to watch the two of them dance around each other, unable to tell each other how they felt. And  _what_ were they wearing? Clary was draped in a deep green silk dress, which showed more of her than Simon had ever seen before. The dress wrapped around her neck in halter style, dipping down her back in a mesh of fabric, exposing the freckles on her bare shoulders.

Isabelle’s was something similar. A blue dress that was meticulously fashioned to one shoulder, like a toga. A simple gold rope extenuated her waist, crisscrossing, and then tied in the front in a knot. They both wore gold sandals, straps that crisscrossed around the back of the ankle up their calves.

“Honestly, Clary, if you wanted to play dress up, you could have just…” Simon's words trailed off as the two women turned. He received a sheepish smile from a person that looked exactly like Isabelle Lightwood, but at the same time, wasn’t.

“Hello, Simon Lewis.


	6. Dopplegangers

 

 _“Who are you?”_ Simon's head was beginning to throb again. The museum. The vase. These two people in front of him who looked exactly like Clary and Isabelle, but were not. It was all too much.

He should have never had listened to Clary. Well, if that wasn’t the statement of the century.

Not-Isabelle stepped down to Simon's level, coming towards him with a grace fit for a queen. It was like she exuded a strength that was powerful, yet gentle. She smiled at him. “In your heart, you already know who I am.”

 _What the fuck?_ Questions filtered through Simon's head and he struggled to sift through them in a somewhat coherent and logical matter. His attention focused back onto the person behind her. This person looked so much like his best friend but, Clary’s fire was not there. This woman was shy, almost doe like, and she had not looked at him for longer than three seconds.

“You are not my friends,” Simon said straightforwardly, still staring suspiciously at fake Clary. “How do you look exactly like them?”

 “I do not know how this came to be. Even as a Goddess of Olympus, my powers are limited and to this puzzling question, I do not have an answer,” Isabelle’s look alike spoke up.

His jaw dropped slightly at her second statement. _Was she insane?_  God. This all had to be a dream--a horrible, astonishing, realistic dream. When Simon finally woke up, he'd have to remind myself to check his Adderall pills in the bathroom and make sure he took the right dosage tomorrow morning. Or maybe it was the depression? He should have taken Mom’s advice and joined her in group therapy.

 “You said Olympus? Like in Greek mythology where the Gods lived?” he asked cautiously. If they wanted him to play along, then he would, but even saying it out loud sounded crazy to his ears.

“And Goddesses,” she added, with slight annoyance in her voice. “Why do people of your realm always leave us goddesses out? I am Aphrodite of Olympus, Goddess of Love,” she declared proudly. She was a good actress, he would give her that. 

Simon shook his head. This had to be sick joke. A joke he wanted no part of. But he couldn’t help but feel a tug in his heart at the possibility. Could this all be real? Gods and Goddesses? Were all of the stories true, and all this time they lived among us?

“Yes, Simon. This is real. I am as real as the ground beneath our feet,” Aphrodite said. He blinked.  _Did she just read my mind?_ “You have a very expressive face, Simon Lewis,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “Please. Follow me.” She gestured to a golden fountain behind her.

Aphrodite turned around and walked to the fountain, before exchanging a few words with Clary’s doppelgänger. Not-Clary nodded sharply at whatever was said to her and ran quickly to a gate that Simon was sure had not been there before. She ran through, disappearing within a bright red light. The gate vanished into thin air.

Simon worried his lower lip, looking around. No place to run. The archway he'd used to enter the garden, was now just a wall of flowers. He was stuck and the only option he had now, was to play along until he figured out what to do. They must have drugged him, giving him some tripy psychedelics or something, because there was just no way any of this could be real. It all had to be a hallucination.

“Simon?” Aphrodite interrupted the chaos in his mind. She now stood behind the fountain, facing me with a knowing look. “I know you have many questions. Let me show you the ones I can answer.” She gave a pointed look to the fountain.

Swallowing his fear, Simon made the way up white marble steps. At the top, he stood right in front of a three tiered gold fountain with intricate detailing around its rim. He peered down. The water resembled the same one he had drank earlier from the stream. The clear blue sparkled with an ambiance of mystery, swirling around without the aid of an outside force.

“You must clear your mind. The fountain does not respond to those whose minds are troubled.” she said gently but with a firm undertone. _Or maybe it won’t respond because it’s not real. None of this is real and you are just an actor--a really good one._ Any moment now, hd expected to see Ashton Kutcher coming out with a truck full of cameras. Was that guy still doing that show? Actually, he heard that he was now trying to stop child sex slavery, which was pretty damn awesome--

“Simon!” 

His head snapped to attention. Brown eyes pierced his with a narrowed gaze. “This is  _not_  a game. I do not play games.  _Please-−_ focus and let the fountain show you.” Her tone sent shivers all the way to my feet.

He did what he was told, because damn she was scary. At this point, there was no telling what she was capable of. For several minutes, nothing seemed to happen... until something did. And that something was so impossible that he honestly wanted to run and hide. Water from the fountain began to swirl faster than its previous slackened pace.

Simon looked up at this Aphrodite person, she was unfazed by the impossible event, and simply nodded her head at him. Right in front of him drops of the fountain water began to rise, forming itself into figures. A battle scene rose in front of him, water soldiers fighting each other fiercely… or as fierce as soldiers made out of water could appear. Then the figures changed, forming into each other to make a larger one, a large man riding a horse.

Simon watched as the man tore through the garden like a wild beast, sword slashing at whatever he could hit. The figured man’s face was covered by a striking helmet, that felt familiar to him, but once again, his mind came up blank. He was still wrapping his head around the current events happening.

The water figure came back to them and then returned into the fountain with a splash, leaving his heavy breathing to fill the silence.  _That just happened. That shit really just happened._

“Simon. Are you aware of the Trojan War?”

In short, jerky movements, Simon nodded, still shaken from what he had seen. “Yeah, sure. I read about in Homer’s _Iliad,_ " he answered, managing to find his voice.

“No. That is not the  _true_  Trojan War.”

Aphrodite walked around the fountain and stood before him, staring up at him like she was trying to figure something. Which was weird to him, because he felt that given the circumstances, Simon should be the one to be doing the sizing up.  _Aphrodite_ then ushered him to a life sized clam filled with pillows on the other side of the alter. Yeah. A life sized clam. _Holy shit._ This was just getting worse and worse by the minute.

She sat down and patted the place next to her. Simon cautiously walked over and sank down onto the soft pillowed clam, immediately hugging his knees together, because he couldn’t deny it any longer. “You  _really_  are her, aren't you? Aphrodite”

“Yes.”

“A--nd I’m in Ancient Greece?”

She answered with a small smile. “It is not Ancient to me, but yes. You are in Greece.”

 "Wh--how is it even possible that I'm here?”

“So, you do believe that this is all real?” she asked cautiously.

He snorted. “After what I just saw, I’m either crazy or it’s real. My safe bet is that this is all real. However-+I would gladly choose crazy at this point.”

She frowned. "I understand that this is a great amount of information to take in. But I assure you, you are not crazy. You have arrived at a dire time. The middle of the Trojan War.”

He gripped a fluffy white pillow beside him. It felt like what he imagined holding a cloud would feel like. He gripped it tightly. “What does this have to do with me though?” I asked. “In my world--time? The Trojan War is just a story in a book. It’s not real. I mean, it shouldn’t be. I don’t belong here.”

“No, you do not.”

“Then why?” he urged. “Why am I here?”

Aphrodite sighed. “All I know is that you are the key to something important. They told me nothing more.”

“Who’s they?”

“I’m afraid I cannot tell you.”

Simon sat silently, watching her nervously tug at the hem of her dress. There was nothing he hated more than being lied to. Clary was an awful liar. She couldn’t lie to him to save her life.

“You’re lying to me. Why?”

She looked up, meeting his eyes. “Yes. But not willingly. I am not permitted to tell you the planning behind your arrival, and for that, I am deeply sorry.”

Simon could tell at least her apology was real. Her eyes had not strayed from his, and in them, she seemed to pour her whole heart into her words. But that didn’t solve the situation. He was still somehow “summoned” here for something and he needed to know what. He ran a hand through his unruly hair, catching a couple blades grass in it. Simon flicked them out of his  hair. “Okay, so, the Trojan War? What about it?”

“You are familiar that the Achaeans and the Trojans are against each other, yes?” she asked. He nodded. “But do you know why they are fighting?”

“Uh--wasn’t it having to do with Helen of Troy?”  Simon tried to remember what he had learned in AP English. In the  _Iliad_ , Helen had been abducted by the Trojan prince, Paris. And her husband, Menelaus convinced his brother Agamemnon, king of Mycenae, to lead an expedition to retrieve her, then everything went to shit.

“Yes. Helen’s kidnapping was indeed a part of it, but such a miniscule part. It was rather, Ares, the God of War who led the Trojans into battle and his involvement has sparked a rift between our family.” Simon could hear the sadness in her voice. “However,” she continued. “I do not believe my brother is acting alone.

“What do you mean?”  

“Typhoeus,” she whispered too quietly that Simon had to lean it to catch her words. “I am sure that he is the one behind Ares’s increased bloodlust for battle.”

 _Typhoeus_. The name didn’t ring a bell. Aphrodite must have seen the confusion on his face, because then she continued. “Typhoeus was once considered the mightiest and deadliest monsters of all Olympus. He was the last son of Gaea and Tartarus.”

That name, at least  Simon recognized. _Tartarus_. He knew it to be place that was deeper than Hades. An abyss so below the earth, that is held some of the deadliest monsters in Greek Mythology. There, these monsters were tortured, damned to a lifetime of suffering. It was also the prison for the Titans. The bit of information he remembered from Walt Disney’s  _Hercules_.

“After Zeus defeated the Titans, along with the help of Poseidon and Hades, he sent Gaea’s children, along with Tartarus, into their eternal hell. There, the two of them secretly created Typhoeus to punish my father. Typhoeus was more powerful than we could ever imagine. The battle had been a bloody one, but my father prevailed, although it nearly killed him.”

Kill a God? He thought that Gids couldn't be killed?  Let alone the King of the Gods. “Killing a God--Is that even possible?”

 “In certain circumstance, yes, it is. For example, Pan, God of Nature, and Asclepius, God Medicine, both were killed,” she explained. “Pan died when people seized to worship the nature and the wild, his very own existence. Asclepius, was killed by my father as punishment for bringing back, Hippolytus, son of King Theseus, from the dead. This angered Hades and he asked Zeus to kill the prince.”

“So what’s the problem?” Simon felt as if she was talking circles around the question. He just wanted to go home. “You’re avoiding my questions,” he accused.

Aphrodite worried at her lip. “My father, _Zeus,_ called a meeting to discuss what should be done about the mortal war. He-−they, the rest of the Olympians, want to send Ares to Tartarus.”

“Can they do that? Is that possible?” he asked, a slither of interest peaking through his voice. 

She nodded gingerly.

“My brother is powerful, but not powerful enough to overthrow all of them. The vote did not pass, thankfully. My father allowed me to speak on behalf of my brother and that is when I proposed an alternative.”

"Alternative?"

Simon felt that whatever was about to be said was going to change his life forever and he wasn't so sure if it was a good forever or a bad one. She looked held his gaze as if the world depended on it...and maybe it did.

“I have until the next solar eclipse to tame my brother and stop this war," Aphrodite paused, her expression unblinking. "And it is  _you_  who must be the one to do it,” she finished,  solidifying his fear.


	7. What He's Always Wanted

“Let me get this straight. You want me to stop, Ares, the God of War?”  _What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck?!_

"I know. It sounds deranged,” she said, plucking a bright yellow Hibiscus flower that appeared to quiver and opened at her touch. She plucked another and the two of them formed two golden chalices. She handed one to him and then took her own and said a quick succession of words in a language Simon did not understand. Suddenly, the cup began to fill with a red liquid.  _Wine?_ “Ambrosia,” she said, answering Simon's thoughts again. It was kind of freaky how she did that and he wasn't sure he'd get used to it. “Nectar of the Gods.”

He stared at it hesitantly. He still had no reason to trust her. Sure, she really was a Goddess, but she also kidnapped and brought him to a time and place that Simon did not belong.

“Drink. It will make you feel better.” Aphrodite took a long sip from her chalice. Simon watched her gingerly, to see if anything would happen, but then mentally kicked myself, because duh, she was a Goddess of Olympus. She wouldn’t be killed by merely poison.

Looking into the cup, he realized how hungry and thirsty he felt and the drink  _did_ look inviting. Oh well, _bottoms up_.

Simon brought the cup to my lips and let the cold liquid flush through his body. As he drank, he felt himself immediately relax. He placed the chalice down beside him on the ground and looked at her calmly. “Say, I could, uh…tame your brother?  Whatever that means. Why would I help you? I don't even know you.”

"No. You do not know me--but I know you. You’ve been through a great deal in your life. You feel alone and are unsure of yourself.” She paused for several seconds before continuing. “You want to be loved...and to love someone.”

Simon sucked in a sharp breath, hating the way her words exposed him. They cut into him deeper than he should have let them. It was like she had stripped him of all my bravado, all the pain he tried so hard not to let out. "All of it-- _I_ can help you. After all, I am the Goddess of Love.”

“I’m not  _that_  desperate," he growled at his feet.

“I can also give you back the one thing you’ve always wanted.”

He looked up at her sharply. “How would  _you_ know what I’ve always wanted?” Simon demanded sharply, yet his heart hammered chest. What she said next, knocked the breath out of him.

“I can give you back your father.”

*

Simon used to dream about him. About his father, after his death. The dream would always start out the same. Simon falling endlessly into darkness, where it would finally enclose around him, suffocating him to death.Then, he would see him. His father would always be dressed in the same clothing--a Rolling Stones t shirt and dark blue jeans with a frayed whole at the ankle. Simon's mom had always hated those jeans. But his dad refused to get rid of them, because he said they had always brought him luck. He had worn them when he got into college, when he met Simon's mom and...when he had proposed to mom at the end of a rock concert.

But they hadnt brought him luck when he'd been killed. He'd been wearing them. "My father is gone. He isn’t coming back. I accepted that a long time ago.” Simon shook his head, getting up. His shoulders felt so heavy. The mention of my father put him on edge and he didn’t want to talk about him with this stranger. “Anyway, like you said, you are not allowed to bring people from the dead. Asclepius, remember?”

Aphrodite stood up as well. “Asclepius is not me. Hades owes me a favor. If you help me, I can reunite you with your father.”

“Do I have a choice? What if I want to go home?”  

"We always have a choice, Simon. But, It's whether if we make the right one, that defines everything, "She smiled sadly. “I do not think it will be that easy.”

“Why?” fear shot through him. “I can go home, right?”

“I−

“Wait! How did I even get here to begin with?”

“You evoked my blessing,” she answered plainly.

“No I di-- _the prayer_.” It all clicked into place.

“Yes.” Aphrodite nodded. “You see, the prayer has been read many times, but it only responds to those who are worthy. You called and I answered."

  _Believe me, it wasn't on purpose._ He was never praying again. "It asked for love, not to be a part of some plan to end a war.”

Aphrodite shook her head slightly, a far away look appeared in her eyes. “Love can be found even in war.”

**Author's Note:**

> The first 7 chapters have been posted. The next 7 shall come in the winter. Thank you for reading. Don't forget to comment!  
> Kisses to Amber my wonderful Beta! And all who read the first 3 chapter's rough drafts!
> 
> My tumblr: nightfallgoddess


End file.
